


The Young Prince of the Mafia

by CreepyLittleLullaby



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Bisexual Shiro (Voltron), Bloodlust, Cuban Lance (Voltron), Family, Family Secrets, Gay Keith (Voltron), Homesick Lance (Voltron), Hunk & Lance (Voltron) Friendship, Implied/Referenced Torture, Lance (Voltron) Angst, Lance (Voltron) Whump, Lance (Voltron)-centric, Langst, M/M, Mafia AU, Mafia Lance, Multi, Orphan Keith (Voltron), Pining Keith (Voltron), Pining Lance (Voltron), Protective Shiro (Voltron), Sadism, Secrets, Shiro (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Socially Awkward Keith (Voltron), Space Mom Allura (Voltron), Space Uncle Coran (Voltron), Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2018-12-19 11:16:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11896602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CreepyLittleLullaby/pseuds/CreepyLittleLullaby
Summary: Lance was the youngest of the family. Proud to say it too. But no one out of the family really knew just how much weight that really held. Until they understood the extent of their 'small family business'.Lance was called the dark prince of the mafia for a reason.





	1. Dark Prince

Lance was the youngest of the family. And he’d proudly say that to anyone and everyone that would listen to him. Though, he doubted that people really just how much weight that held in his family, the McClain family. He was the baby of the family. A family that was… how would it be said? Rather, well known. Famous even, if you knew who to ask. All the attention just for their small family business. It really wasn’t too big of deal. Well, not a big of deal for them being one of the biggest mafia’s in Cuba with connections internationally. Lance was a lucky boy being the youngest. With all his older sisters coddling him and protecting him, there was always someone playing with him, or teaching him things. Protecting him from the big bad world.

Just look at Lance’s first boyfriend, the mess it was. He’d been an asshole, taking advantage of Lance’s money and love. Then breaking his heart when he slowly realized just who Lance was. His sister had not been happy. Lance was hurt. Luckily, the pain wasn’t so bad that he couldn’t enjoy painting targets of that jackass' pants and watching his sisters taking turns with their pipes. He did warn his dear Johnny that his sisters would bust his kneecaps if he hurt Lance. Johnny had said he’d love Lance forever… but obviously that was a lie if he was fucking some other girl on the side. Sweet girl. Lance liked her, he took great pleasure in stealing her to be his own when Johnny was in the hospital, and remaining her closest friend when the relationship was broken off. 

That doesn’t mean Lance was completely helpless… they didn’t call him the dark prince for nothing. He was the prince of the family, with family members that would protect him with their lives. They would do anything for him, enjoyed taking care of him and smothering him in protective love. But Lance was more than capable of taking lives of his own. Mama didn’t raise someone lazy. And Papa didn’t raise a son who was at the mercy of his surroundings. He was the hunter, not the prey. Lance was just as driven and hardworking as his older sisters. And Lance couldn’t help but think that maybe that was his saving grace. Though, he guessed no one could have guessed the son of a mafia would be shot into space to fight an intergalactic war with giant metal space lions.

Hey. He’s seen weirder things growing up he guessed. His uncle was quite creative with a can of spray paint, a crow bar, and toothpicks. He’d never seen a torture victim crack so fast. Though, Lance was more partial to kill them with kindness. Mercy and guilt. Classic. And worked so well for him, being the so called ‘innocent one’ of the family.

Too bad everyone that could disprove that was either family or dead.

Oh well, that was a shame he guessed. 

What Lance couldn’t have guessed however, was just how hard it was to be in space without his family. The loneliness and frustration was almost crushing. He couldn’t get a break from being smiley and joking. He didn’t get to let out his frustrations anymore. The bloodlust inside him aching, the need to dig and tear into someone, watch their pain beneath your fingernails. Blood. Red. True. Honest. It was difficult to act normal without a break for so long. Acting average in training simulators where he could easily handle his own load, but had to stumble a bit. They had nothing to technically be suspicious about. And he guessed he could explain himself. But, that would be. Inconvenient. Gaining trust was time consuming. He cared about them so much. He’d never hurt them. But if he confessed his sins, would they still believe that?

It was easier if they never found out. Even if the dark prince within him was growing impatient. Itching to just get this over with and go home. The temptation to find and corner a Galran general on a mission and just take the information he wanted was so an enticement that was so hard to resist. Lance had to wonder just how long he could take it. The jabs at his goofy nature, a personality that was warmly received at home. The biased behaviors, everyone preferring someone else to his company, excusing Coran. If only he’d met Coran on earth. His father would have loved him. They would all be well taken care of when they got to earth, whether they learned why that would be or not. Lance had his plans.

He was going to get Pidge and Hunk into good colleges or careers dependent on their wishes, they had enough military and fighting for their short lives. Shiro would be urged into counseling by everyone, so that wasn’t a worry. Though Lance would be sure to make sure he would get only the best job in whatever field he would go into. Keith, he was a little more difficult, Lance would have to wait and see before he made any decisions. God knows where Keith was going to stay. Though with how cozy him and Shiro were getting, Keith was probably sure to stay with Shiro. Either way, Lance would be sure that Keith would not end up in some shack in a desert. He loved all the paladins, but he knew for a fact he had a soft spot know as a crush for both the red and black paladins. It wouldn’t affect any judgement he had on them. And he certainly wasn’t jealous per-say of them finding affections in each other. He couldn’t have them anyway. They were pure. Naïve. He wouldn’t taint that.

Maybe them getting together in front of Lance’s eyes was the next best thing. Whether it doomed him to other fantasies or helped him move on. He didn’t know just yet… guess he’d find out as the days went by. Lance leaned back against Blue’s paw. Head lulled back with a smile.

Blue was the only one that knew everything. Mind melds were easy to avoid the memories of a little five-year-old Lance holding a gun. Or the many ‘interrogations’ and strewn bodies parts that stained the floors of the training rooms. It wasn’t that hard really. All he had to do was push forward the memories of his sisters and parents. Christmas trees and laughter. Playing card games and speaking Spanish together into the night. 

“Hey Blue, do you think I’m a bad person?” A purr of reassurance rang through his mind, soothing him. She loved him regardless of human laws and moralities. She sensed his good heart. His love for their team. She was not worried about him hurting anyone that didn’t deserve it. Didn’t mind that he had human blood on his hands as well as alien. Maybe that even helped him, the others all had a hard time with the concept of deaths on their head. Needing comfort which Lance was often the one to give as the friendly and cheery paladin. Holding Pidge and assuring her it was okay, she would find her family, and they would love her all the same. They loved her too. Hunk always would need a hug. His anxiety and guilt reaching high levels until Lance could curve it. Whispering quietly and helping Hunk destress, think with a clear head. Lance helped Keith keep his mind off it. Sparring with him. And giving subtle reassurance whenever a flash of fear and guilt would ring through those violet eyes when Keith would pin Lance or point a weapon at him. Shiro was a little harder to help, but also was easier in a way. He was used to death. Most of Lance’s comfort was given to Shiro by finding him when the nightmares were bad and staying with Shiro. Quietly humming, or talking in a low voice until Shiro would drift back to sleep. 

Lance wandered if he noticed how even when he helped them, he didn’t quite get or need help himself. Looking down the barrel of a gun and taking someone’s life was a feeling Lance knew quite well. And if there was a reason for it. Lance was quite fine with the feeling, only enjoying the rush of pleasure and sadistic desire. Lance knew if he killed an innocent, with no ties to his family, those feelings would drown in guilt and ill emotions. So, Lance would avoid that, he never hurt anyone that hadn’t hurt or threatened him or his family first. Just like he’d avoid scaring and hurting his new family with his blood ties. His Blood Right. 

Lance didn’t realize just how hard that would be to avoid.

Secrets don’t hide in the dark forever after all.


	2. Never Lie

It wasn’t surprising honestly, who noticed first. Lance had seen it coming a mile away honestly. He did see everything honestly, and no one really knew Lance’s old scars better, even without quite seeing them. It helped that he also kept track of other people’s feelings like a hound, always trying to figure out how to help them and show them love.

Coran. For clarification.

Lance really did love Hunk. But Hunk was so sweet and caring. If anything. Hunk was the last person Lance wanted to drag into the mess of his mental state and his history. Hiding any old bullet wounds or scars from being bound in a rival’s holding interrogation room. Deflecting anytime Hunk would ask him about how he knew how to handle a gun. Avoiding how sometimes Hunk would look at him after Lance ended a life, and did not seek any comfort like everyone else had at one point. Lance was pretty sure Hunk just finally assumed and picked up the fact that Lance liked to deal with his mental problems and feelings with humor and behind closed doors.

Coran however. Didn’t just assume that. Rather. Coran observed him. Watched the way he would pull the trigger on a Galra. Not batting an eye when the blood would splash back and decorate his armor. The way he comforted others, but not himself. Looking coldly at death. Not blinking. The pod showing the old bullet wounds and scars. Much older than their space voyage. It wasn’t a surprise when Coran spoke up one day as Lance chattered and cleaned the pods with him.

“Lance. You’ve seen death before. Haven’t you?” Lance paused, looking to Coran. Before giving a wry smile. Leaning against the pod with a solemn look and smile.

“Yeah. You can say that I guess.” Lance would always be honest. There was no point in lying. Lance had a vow to never lie to anyone that he loved. It only caused hurt. That’s why he often worked so hard to make sure they just never asked. Coran stared back, and gave a reassuring smile.

“I will not judge you, I do not know earth customs. But, I do think it would be best for you to at least talk about it. You cannot bottle things like these up forever. And I sense this is something you do not wish to talk to the other paladins about.” Lance gave a soft bitter laugh and continued his venture in cleaning the pods.

“Something like that… It’s a little difficult to explain, so this might be a little vague. But back on earth, I was a part of… a little family business. We handled some of the darker and more gray areas of business. Basically, we did some illegal things. My family has more than a few branches of business, including some more gritty details I guess. If you’ve ever heard of a mafia in space. I’ve done some of that type of work, its what I grew up with, so its honestly normal to me. To hold a gun. A knife. Even a bat or a blunt object. And watch as they start from staring at you, to staring at nothing at all. It’s just another thing in my life at this point. But I’ve never hurt anyone that was innocent. I would never hurt any of you especially. You are family now. That means a lot in my book.” Lance smiled at Coran. 

“They needed comfort more than I needed it. I can handle blood on my hands. They can’t, they shouldn’t have to. This is a war, they fight and will have to kill to live and achieve this goal. I’ve… had options to not, but I did anyway. And I’ll live with that. I’m at peace with that.” Lance gave another grim smile, Coran could understand the emotions in Lance’s eyes better than before as Lance gave him another glance. Hesitance, understanding, pain. Lance was aware of what he’d done. Coran could see a glimmer of sympathy, empathy. But also, a feeling of, acceptance. As if Lance accepted he’d always be in pain, wondering, blaming himself and hurting for what he had done. 

“But no matter how I explain myself, the truth is I had a choice. My family would not have forced me into this life. I didn’t have to do anything I’ve done. I’ve done this of free will. I can get it if this changes a few things. If you’ve lost faith and trust in me, I understand completely. Please though, whatever you think or do. Don’t tell them. I don’t want my shit to affect Voltron and them. They don’t deserve that.” Coran stayed quiet for a moment, but smiled back at Lance.

“Don’t worry my boy, you’re still my favorite paladin and a very precious friend to me as well. Nothing changes. I just worry about you too. You help them all, but who do you go to when you need someone?” Lance gave a grin.

“Isn’t it obvious who I go to? You.” Coran stopped for a moment in shock.

“Me?” Lance smiled again.

“Yeah. I thought it was obvious. I like to be around people, and you telling stories of your home reminds me of my Uncle. He’d always tell stories about his home town. It’s nice to listen to you. It’s a weird thing to admit, but it’s probably better than me venting. I like to leave the past in the past, taking my mind of things is what I always did by talking with Tío. This… that’s getting weird. I’m sorry.” Lance’s ramble was swiftly interrupted however when he was pulled into a bone crushing hug by Coran. Lance getting a view at just how strong Coran really was when he was almost lifted off his feet by the tight hug.

It was just like his oldest sister Emilia’s hugs.

“I’m happy that you could trust me that much. And trust me so much as to tell me all of this with complete honesty. I will not break that trust. You’re a good lad, Lance. You’ve got a good heart, and a good mind. That’s all that really counts in this universe really.” Lance smiled, wrapping his arms around Coran to return the tight hug. 

“What do you do if they ask however?” Lance sighed.

“I will never lie to them. I love them. So, tell the truth I guess. Hope for the best.” He was a seventh wheel anyway. Worst came to worst, they could boot him off the ship and dig up some better blue paladin. Blue growled angrily in his mind at that thought. Lance persuaded her away, satisfying her by cutting off that thought and just melting into Coran’s hug.

It wasn’t like they were asking anyway. 

Yet.


	3. Lady Luck

Turns out, the week just had to be full of surprises and just plain drama as the castle’s alarms blared. It was only two days after Coran had unraveled Lance’s thinly veiled family situation, and things had been calm for a little while. Until they weren’t calm. But Lance’s only question, was just how the fuck, did the Galra sneak onto the castle in less than a god damn hour of being on the radar. 

This was turning into some class A bullshit. Especially when the one person who could track the Galra in the castle, was hidden and held captive, by the Galra, somewhere in the castle. This was fucking madness and bullshit in Lance’s book. Lance’s blood was boiling hot with agitation. Fingers ticking against his thigh as the team all argued the best way to find and track down Allura. Without her being hurt or killed. The fire in his chest was only burning hotter as he was shut down every moment he tried to talk. Lance glanced to Coran, the older man was a mess, but still calmed than all the paladins put together surprisingly as Coran made eye contact with Lance. Lance gripped tighter to his rifle, before Coran nodded and forced himself into the team circle. Catching the other paladin’s attention and allowing Lance to slip away without a single word.

His skin itched and crawled as he settled into his choice hesitantly, before the bloodlust dug its claws in and Lance’s lips quirked up into a smile. A smile that was just a little too wide as Lance caught sight of a Galran soldier with his narrowed eyes and ducked behind a wall. His muscled coiled and tense before he sprung. Grabbing the soldier with a tight, near bruising grip on the jaw and throwing the bulky soldier into an open room before closing the door with a final click of a lock. The grin grew a little wider.

“Wanna have some fun with me~?” 

\---

Lance regretted not having the time to spend playing around with him. The sight was really pretty though. The soldier was restrained tightly against a chair, blood blossoming from many knife wounds and a shot out shoulder joint. Which Lance grinned maliciously as he digged his fingers into the bloody hole and played. The soldier’s screams muted by the gag in his sharp teeth to keep the beautiful music all to Lance’s self.

But he didn’t have time to play. Allura was somewhere in the castle, and he needed the information that this little shit was just not keen on giving him. Lance gave a sick and playful grin, retracting his fingers which made the Galran soldier give a muffled sob of relief, until His eyes widened and he whimpers as Lance’s blood soaked hands gripped onto the rifle and Lance straddled the Galran’s lap. Smiling with sadistic eyes as he pointed the barrel of the gun at the space between the Galran’s legs. A crooked wide smile.

“Where is she? Unless. You’d like to… heh, well. You can guess what game we’ll be playing next. Start with the tip and move down from there. Wonder how many shots I can get before there is nothing left for me to shoot. I think maybe three if I try harder enough. What do you think? Three? Let’s shot for three.” The Galran soldier screamed in his gag, whipping his head from side to side wildly. Eyes full a panic.

“MM-MO!!! PFFLEASE!!! MO!!! I’LL BE-E-E GOODFF!!!” Lance pulled the gun back.

“You’ll be good?” The soldier wildly nodded while sobbing in relief. Tears streaming down the bloody and matted purple fur. “Then be a good boy. Tell me where my princess is you good boy.”

“I-Im teh hull, pfflease. I wamma go ‘ome.” Lance gave a sincere smile. 

“Sure thing.” Lance got off the soldier’s lap and tried to brush off his armor, only smearing blood on his white armor. His grip tightened on the gun as he opened the door flicking the lock open. Lance hesitated before the door opened. Before a sick feeling entered his heart.

These people would only hurt his family. They had families, but Lance did too. His family had mercy. Their families did not. Lance. Did not. Lance’s lips pulled out in a smirk. He didn’t have mercy, not like this with the red vision and blood pumping, heart racing. Lance didn’t turn to look though, he didn’t have to as he stuck out an arm in the back of him. Hearing the ‘foom’ of his gun shooting and the slump of a body. 

Between the eyes.

Just like poison.

Just like always.

Lance’s footsteps aren’t quiet in the slightest as he holds onto the gun. His armor is disheveled and his helmet is gone. Blood smeared all over his body, splatters on his skin and hair. Lance’s sick grin, his eyes wide and pupils blown wide. There was no mask protecting him, and there was nothing stopping him.

He wasn’t afraid to make some noise.

Lance wonders how the team didn’t guess where she was being held sooner, the halls leading to the hull of the castle were infested with the soldiers. Lance’s hand was burning, his bayard beginning to overheat with how many shots he was firing. But the burn was alright. The stretch and pain of the gashes tearing through the kinks of his armor were okay too. The gunshots that pierced and grazed his skin. It was fine.

There was worse out there.

He’s faced worse.

This was. Nothing.

Lance was only lightly panting as he paused, the door to the hull was closed, firmly shut. Though Lance doubted it was locked. They rarely locked the hull, it wasn’t a door lock, but rather a system lock. Lance inched closer quietly, his bayard was meltingly hot in his left hand. Blisters were beginning to bloom. Making Lance barely flicker with a grimace before instincts wiped his face clean of expression. The only point of weakness visible was the trembling of his hand struggling to keep grip on the gun given to him from Satan. Lance gritted his teeth.

He was the young prince of the McClain family. The dark prince with no mercy, blood staining his hands so deep as if the blood red color would only be washed away through the ashes of his body burning in hell. Lance gave a soft chuckle.

Wouldn’t that be a sight?

Lance grabbed the door and opened it calmly. Letting the door creak as his grin shined with bloodlust and an unnatural glee. “Hide and seek bitch. What’s gonna be our next game?” Allura’s head shot to Lance, eyes widening in concern and worry, as well as shock. Lance could understand all the emotions. One, she was tied up to her teeth on a chair. There was a dark bruise on her cheek. And she was seeing the silliest and cheeriest of her paladins, the flirty idiot of a blue paladin. Holding a smoking gun and drenched in sickeningly metallic smelling blood, no mask. No excuses.

Just a murderer. And his next victim in front of her eyes. Her sweet confused eyes. Lance felt a twinge of anger and pity. He wanted to shield them from the ugly truth in the world, but war had a way of ensuring no secrets were kept. And war also liked to take. Rather than give.

Lance reacted quickly, but not quickly enough. Blood loss getting to him and dragging his brain to struggle with comprehending its job of actually moving his limbs. And his gun was flung out of his hands from the force of his body jerking the opposite way from a punch. The relief of the burning gun being gone was replaced with the agony of the melted skin and armor tearing off and following the gun. But Lance just gritted his teeth. 

Guess he was channeling his wrestling matches with Lucy for this fight.

Though he doubted a twenty-something (three) year old woman weighed as much as a Galran general that was a full foot taller than him with high heels on. Yes, this would be a little different. But hey, it was all relative, right? 

Lance ducked under another hit and shoved the thoughts away, launching himself to grab the other’s midsection and pushing as hard as he could. He could only barely throw the general slightly off balance. But it was enough to allow Lance a little wiggle room to get his hands on the ground. 

His legs hooked around the Galran generals shoulder’s and pulled. Lance’s body weight pulling the off balance Galra to stumble and start to fall. Lance’s spine curving to grab the floor and keep control of the situation. His seared hands groaned and sunk needles into his nerve endings at the feeling of the cold metal and bolts on the floor of the hull, but Lance ignored them as he prayed to god this would work. His legs were stronger than his arms, so it was his best shot as he gripped tighter and curled his abs. Managing to struggle and pull the Galra over his body. The heavy weight of the general falling and smashing his own head into the ground, allowing Lance to roll back onto his feet. Hands bleeding profusely now as he yanked the binding off Allura and grabbed her wrist in a bloody handed grip and running like hell before any reinforcements could come.

One thing that was true, was that Lance was not invincible. Lance knew his limits and his strengths. Lance was nearing the end of both, bayard abandoned and hands becoming numb with pain. His eye sight wavering and his head going to the clouds as his injuries demanded to finally be noticed.

He ignored it.

His family came first. Getting Allura to his family was first.

A prince watched over his family fairly and protectively. Serving them.

He was a prince. He would serve his family.

With one last push of strength, Lance stumbled into the room where the team was, shoving Allura through the doors where she was sure to be seen in a mere moment before he ducked to the side. One still good hand pressed to his chest and holding his breath until he heard the shouts of relief. Lance let out a breath and let himself slide down the wall of the corridor. Body shaking from the loss of adrenaline and now giving in to exhaustion.

How was he going to patch himself up when he couldn’t even get to one of his medkits? Though, Lance had serious doubt any of the stitches and supplies he had hidden in Blue or his room were going to cover this. The answer came in a soft touch to his shoulder. Lance glanced up, blood streaming down his forehead and only slightly obstructing his sight.

Coran was smiling gently, before reaching down to grasp one of Lance’s upper arms to urge Lance up to his feet. Hooking Lance’s arm over his own shoulder, uncaring of the blood beginning to seep into his own clothes, and tastefully ignoring the knowledge that not even half of it was the blue paladin’s. The only blood Coran was caring about right now, was the amount escaping his favorite paladin’s injuries. Lance was pretty easy to support, being light and pliant in Coran’s grasp, but the way Lance was beginning to sway on his feet was concerning to Coran. He didn’t know how much human bodies could take, but it looked like Lance was nearing that limit as Lance practically slumped onto the cot Coran set him in. Already working to prying off Lance’s armor and slip Lance into the pod. Lance’s last thoughts were what was the team going to think?

Turns out Coran had already told Allura about Lance, and Allura trusted Coran and his judgement in character. All Lance had gotten was a soft warning not to hurt any of the other paladins as he fell out of the healing pod. Once Lance assured her that it was the opposite desire. That he’d kill anyone for even touching them. Allura simply smiled at him.

He was still the same flirty idiot he was before he pulled her through a hallway of dead bodies. All killed by him. A stone sunk in his stomach however, at the tense atmosphere that Lance could only do some much to ease. They had a break in. They were stressed, and worried. Lance didn’t think they could handle anymore stress right now. His secret would have to wait a little.

Luck. He was lucky, with how well Allura and Coran reacted. And he wondered just when that luck might run out.

Because Luck is a lady.

But Luck always runs out.


	4. Hunk

            It was one of those nights where Hunk was almost certain that the red on his hands wasn’t from what ever culinary creation he’d made in the kitchen just hours before. The scent of metallic blood. The coiling of guilt in his gut. The possibilities. One of his teammates got hurt, there was a civilian hurt…

            He’d killed a man.

            The thoughts would spiral around Hunk and crush him like a vice. Choking him with his own sobs and guilt as he struggled to breath. But then it would clear. Like a storm parting for the sun as a familiar tan and lanky boy would squirm into his lap and hold him tightly. Hands gripping into Hunk’s back and urging Hunk to do the same. Which Hunk would do immediately, needing. Nearly begging to be grounded from the weightless and endless void.

            And Lance would speak, his skin warm on Hunk’s as Lance’s skin rubbed against where tear tracks had dripped down his neck and jaw. Brown hair smelling of coconut lotion and the sea salted breeze tickling the stains of Hunk’s cheeks. Lance’s voice like honey. Sweet, smooth, soft in Hunk’s ears. Comforting.

            “It’s okay to feel guilty. To feel hurt. It means your human.” And the pain would be less unbearable. Less unexpected and hated.

            “Hunk, buddy, take some deep breaths with me okay?” And his lungs were given space from the crowding thoughts. Allowing air to circulate in. Allowing more of Lance ground him into reality.

            “There was nothing else you could have done Hunk. You did it for us. Pidge wouldn’t have survived that without you. You saved Pidge. Doesn’t that count for something?” Lance was right. If he had to pick a Galran or his team, his team would be the first within that heartbeat. And the swirling thoughts would calm into rough waves instead.

            “It’ll be easier once you accept that you’ll live with this forever, and that’s okay. One day, you look back and realize everything you did was for a reason. That it wasn’t easy. But you did it because you had to. You did it for a purpose. You aren’t a killer. You didn’t kill them because you wanted to. Believe me.” And the words soothed the sharp edge that was tearing Hunk apart, letting his mind quiet and just sit in silence. The only thing he heard was him and Lance breathing in sync. Lance held tightly in his arms. Hunk was almost completely wrapped around Lance. Nearly covering the entire lanky boy with just his body. But Lance didn’t seem to mind the smothering. Lance never did. Lance only clung tighter.

Just like always.

This time Hunk felt his breaths even out in the peaceful atmosphere. But he knew it could turn awkward if they wanted too long, and he didn’t want to address his near panic attack. His lips quirked up in a teasing smile as he picked the perfect topic to shift the mood and attention away from anything dark.

“So, how was watching Keith pin Shiro in training today. Red really is your color.” Lance immediately hissed and gave a playful hit to Hunk’s chest. Scowling at the bigger male with a pout that only made Hunk think of an annoyed kitten. Ears flicking and tail swishing irritably.

“Would you cut that out bud. I already have Pidge on my ass about this pleaseee, why do you love to torture meee. You find sadistic fun in my torture?” Hunk chuckled, playing on Lance’s dramatics as the lanky teen flailed in his arms, bending back and almost falling off until Hunk’s arms immediately supported him. Laughing.

“Because you have a sad, sad crush and all of this pining is just painful to watch.” Lance frowned and pouted.

“Traitor.”

“You say as I keep you from falling off the bed and continually feed you when you get sick of food goo.”

“Friendly traitor.”

Eventually though, Lance and Hunk had to actually go to bed. Lance giving Hunk one last squeezing hug before disappearing around the bend of the hallway. The door closing on its own as all motion stayed still. Hunk watching as the door separated them with a smile. Lance was hopeless. He didn’t even see those googly and eyes Keith and Shiro were shooting him after the whole Allura incident. They looked like kicked puppies when Lance would brush off their concerns with a joke. It was hilarious and sad just how awkward and terribly worded Keith was. And just how shit at flirting Shiro was. Pidge and him were almost tempted to just shove them all in a closet together. While Allura and Coran… well Coran already made it clear Lance was his favorite and if Keith or Shiro did anything they would disappear and not be found.

Allura… was weird... well. She was normal. After her capture she was okay, definitely okay. But how she talked to Lance changed a lot. In an alarming rate, too. Their whole dynamic changed. Lance had stopped flirting with Allura seriously, now it was more jokingly. And Allura stopped rolling her eyes. Instead joking with Lance and taking his outrageous ideas in stride. Actually, listening to some of his ideas. It was good for Lance. But, it was still a little… weird.

Honestly, everything had gotten weird when they got into space. Well, weirder, Lance had always been a little odd. Hunk shrugged off the thought and chose to push away the worries to worry about his pillow and blanket instead. Hunk’s eyes closed and he passed out the minute his head hit the pillow.

\---

            Sleep however was not nice and was more of a slap to the face. And two hours later, Hunk was awake and staring at the ceiling. All he could see was the body of that Galra falling to the floor, lifeless. Blood spraying everywhere, all over him. His armor and his bayard. It made his stomach turn.

            But Lance’s words worked into his head. Soothing him and quieting his self-loathing thoughts. Rationalizing them. Telling him it wasn’t his fault. Telling him if he had a choice it wouldn’t have happened, but that he hadn’t. It did make him feel better. It made a smile spread on his face, he really had a good best friend.

            Hunk frowned at the ceiling suddenly. It was great advice. But, where had Lance gotten this advice? Or the better question was who was comforting Lance when he had to… end a life. Lance shot people for them all the time. Hunk wasn’t stupid. He saw the bodies and the blood on Lance’s armor. The blank look Lance would wear when he thought no one was looking. An expression that seemed a little scary to think about being the last thing you’d see as you were shot. Like a scary mask to wear as you shot someone.

But, who would Lance even go to about problem like that? Lance hadn’t known the Alteans for that long, and Pidge wasn’t very… emotional? Compassion wasn’t really their strong suit. Shiro and Keith were possibilities. But Lance liked them, and Hunk knew his best friend, if Lance were having problems they would be the last people to know.

            Oh god, no one was probably helping Lance at all. He was a shit best friend. Lance was probably lying awake or with nightmares. Lance has been helping him all this time and Hunk was sitting there and just letting Lance comfort him without even asking about how Lance was doing. Oh my god he was an asshole. An absolute asshole.

            Hunk’s body and feet moved before he did. Legs automatically carrying him down the hall to a familiar brunet’s room. The door sliding open with the softest sound, almost in audible, yet Hunk held his breath. Lance was a light sleeper when he wasn’t listening to music. Luckily though Lance’s headphones were on. Hunk could see the outline of them on Lance’s head in the dim light. Hunk only let out a small breath of relief that Lance only tensed for a moment. The arm beneath his head and pillow relaxing after a moment. Hunk snuck a little closer, feeling a little better at seeing Lance sleeping peacefully.

            A sigh left his lips, gently and silently. Hunk studied Lance quietly. The brunet had some new scars. Some old scars. But the basics were still the same. Lance still slept with the same posture, on his back with a face mask covering his tan skin, one hand on his chest, showing off the deep white scar on the back of Lance’s right palm and Lance’s left arm and hand under his pillow supporting his head. Legs still and relaxed under the blanket. Not a scrunch or sign of negative emotion on his face. Or any honestly. Lance looked so calm sleeping. He was still with even barely his chest moving.

            Lance almost looked dead.

            Hunk’s hand was moving before he had even a second thought, reaching for Lance’s hand (because reaching for a sleeping Lance’s neck is a sure-fire way to get punched in the face. Keith learned that the hard way. But honestly Keith almost looked happy to even get hit by Lance for just a moment before the anger self-defense mechanism kicked in.) All Hunk could get from that wrist was an extra detailed look at a bunch of strange scars that almost looked like… torture. No pulse points. Hunk’s heart thrummed a little harder, even though he could feel Lance’s breath. His hand tugged almost desperately on Lance’s other arm, freeing it from the pillow, but Hunk nearly jumped and crawled out of his skin with what was exposed with the arm.

            More scars, and Lance’s hand tightly gripping a knife. Knuckles white with how tense his hand was gripping the deadly weapon. Though the calluses on Lance’s hand made it look like it used to be a gun. Though, Lance’s rifle would never fit under his pillow Hunk guessed maybe the knife worked better.

            Why was he even thinking this? Lance was holding a god damn knife! In his sleep! Was that even safe? Did Lance not feel safe enough here to not sleep with a knife? How long had Lance been sleeping with a god damn knife under his pillow? Lance had always slept like that, does that mean he’s always had a weapon under his head? (Keith better count his lucky stars that Lance was only napping on the couch that time) Though, Hunk knew Lance would never hurt anyone intentionally. Definitely not them.

            Hunk would never doubt Lance’s love for the team. He’d never hurt them.

            Though, it didn’t mean Hunk didn’t question why Lance was sleeping with knife. Oh no, on the contrary Hunk was extremely curious as to why Lance felt the need to have a knife under his pillow and just how many more questionable scars Lance had. Hunk’s arm, like his legs earlier, lost conscious control as he slowly grabbed the bottom of Lance’s shirt and pulled it up and over Lance’s ribs. Nearly gasping aloud at the sight of how many grotesque knife wounds and other painful looking scars covered his skin.

            It almost made Hunk sick. But he saved that for the inevitable moment as Lance’s light sleeping tendencies kicked in with the cold air on his stomach. Though his blue eyes were still hazy with sleep, the arm that shot up with Lance’s wakening froze immediately, a good two feet from Hunk, but Lance’s eyes still sharpened with a guilty clarity as soon as he realized he’d almost just pulled a knife on his best friend. Hunk gave him a reassuring smile and gave a calm step back, let his body language do the talking.

            ‘We need to talk.’

            Lance was up almost immediately, tucking the knife safely under his pillow again as he pulled his legs up to cross over his bed. Concern immediate in his eyes. “Are you alright? Did you have a nightmare again? Oh god me waving a knife around probably did not help this out at all! Are you okay?” Hunk shushed him, taking a seat resident on his bed as well.

            “No! Lance I’m fine! I woke up a little while ago, trust me, the knife thing was more surprising than scary. I was mostly here because… well. I always go to you when I’m a wreck, and you never come to me. Which would be fine. If I didn’t know you well enough to know you would burn in hell before you went to any of the other paladins or the Alteans.” Lance gave a guilty smile. He knew it was true.

            “You know me way to well.” Hunk gave a small chuckle.

            “Yup, which means I also know when you’re deflecting.” Lance gave a bitter smile.

            “Yeah.” Lance paused. “Don’t worry about it. Me I mean. You don’t have to. This isn’t… I would never hurt you. God knows I would die before I ever did. Just… let’s say I’m used to it.” Hunk frowned.

            “You’re used to sleeping with a knife? Lance, this war affects everyone, you don’t need to be embarrassed about being afraid or getting affected. I know you’ve shot them and I know you have killed them. I did too, but you helped me. You should at least talk it too. I’m your best friend! You’ve helped me so much. Let me help you too.” Lance gave a bitter smile.

            “Hunk, don’t worry about it. I’m fine trust me. It’s just the family business.” Hunk raised an eyebrow.

            “Family business?” Lance froze, blinking. It was so early in the morning. He hadn’t even thought about the Galrans when Hunk had mentioned it. He’d only thought of the last target he’d had on earth. The last one before the garrison. He guessed that was just how much Hunk reminded him of earth. He hadn’t even thought of the various Galrans that had fallen until he took a second. Being tired was a dangerous thing. Lance knew that. But Jesus.

            How used to death did you have to be to forget about killing so many others?

            “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it. Just really weird dream and I’m still kinda half asleep.” Hunk’s lips formed into a tight line.

            “That’s why you know how to shoot so well. And why your sisters always joked about sticking the family on Iverson. Why you don’t even react when you see… it… happen.” Lance’s breath caught in his throat. His heart pounding. Until Hunk smiled at him.

            “Your sisters and you were always terrifying, but you can tell how much you care about each other. They always joked about adopting me too. I know you’d never hurt anyone that didn’t deserve it. Or else… is that why you disappeared while Allura was missing?” Lance smiled.

            “Airlocks are better clean up then you’d think.” Hunk chuckled.

            “Can’t say I would know, or would want to know. But I did notice how differently Allura’s been acting around you. It’s safe to assume she knows?” Lance grinned.

            “I told Coran one day, I pretty much assumed Allura would find out pretty quickly after that. I am surprised you didn’t figure it out first. Or how you didn’t even notice the varying amounts of knives and pistols I had hidden around our dorm room.”

            “Is that why it always smelled like gun powder? I thought it was just the garrison.” Lance laughed.

            “It was a little bit of a mix. Are you… really okay with this?” Hunk shrugged.

            “I love you and I respect you. I know you wouldn’t hurt me or anyone here and we’re kind of in a war. It’s probably for the best. As long as you are feeling okay and aren’t having trouble then that’s all that matters to me.” Lance smiled. Most people would run screaming and telling everyone to run for their lives or try to arrest him.

            How did he get such a great best friend again?


	5. That Person

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Pidge's turn! And thank you to a certain user ThtoneGal666!!! They heavily inspired this chapter and inspired an alternate ending and a whole new chapter that was never planned in the series with their through, beautifully supportive, and detailed comment that lifted my spirits and watered my crops. Thank you so much starling. You have no idea how much you've affected me with your kindness. Thank you so much.
> 
> This is for you. I hope you enjoy it as much as you have the rest :) 
> 
> (Hope I answered some of you theories too :)

            The hierarchies of the mafia were honestly pretty complex. Lance had to admit it. His family was very liberal and open minded. Having six daughters of varying degrees of sexuality and one son who didn’t care if what he wore was girly or if who he kissed wasn’t a girl tended to do that to their family.

            Family came first over tradition and mindset.

            However, that didn’t mean their contacts were like that. True, they respected that the girls were the eldest and equal to them (Lance’s ex drove that home. They knew what those ‘innocent and dainty’ girls could do) Though in regards to orders and who they looked to first as the heir would be Lance. He was the first son.

Luckily, Lance was a great diplomat and an even better compromiser. While he may be the prince, his eldest sister was to be the queen. Lance would serve as her prince and enforcer. Her right hand. Equals in decisions -It also helped that as much as he loved Emilia, she was more of a shoot first question later, there was a reason he was the one who tortured and interrogated- His other sisters would be the heads of each of their own areas. Excusing Mia and Mya who wanted to run as co-leaders (the twins hardly separated, they even shared a boyfriend, polyamory was not an unknown concept to Lance nor his family)

            There would be some issues of the other families taking Lance’s side over hers should they ever disagree, he would smooth that over. Probably by scheduling family meetings before any conferences to sort out which side they may be on. Lance typically agreed with his family though, or could argue his points out with logic and persuade them to see his view.

            He hoped Mama and Papa were doing well, they were getting up in their years. Lance had no clue when he’d left. He was supposed to take over with Emilia and his sisters as soon as he graduated… but life was strange. He hoped they weren’t too worried, they knew he could care for himself. Even if that wouldn’t stop them from hunting down any lead and obstacle in their way. Including the Garrison if they tried to cover up their disappearance again.

            Though, the idea of his sisters tearing into Iverson for his disappearance was so amusing.

            Lance almost hoped he would be stupid enough to attempt just that.

            Shame he wouldn’t get to paint Iverson’s kneecaps. He’d been practicing.

           

            Lance’s dainty fingers brushed his left rib cage. They itched. They always itched and burned when he thought of it. The only distraction from it was the raging of blood lust, which was non existent as he headed out of the dining hall. But Lance pushed the burning feeling away, the ink in his skin was old. Any discomfort was past lived and all in his head.

            Right now, what he had to worry about was the baby sibling that hadn’t eaten all god damn day. Gremlin wrangling was not a fun sport and he needed his full attention for it. Not part of it. Lance sighed quietly, but a small smile still tilted on his face. He was the youngest, so he’d never had a little sibling to take care of and hassle. As frustrating as it could be, Lance wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

            His eyes didn’t take long to find the familiar almost ginger-light brown hair in the living hall. A blanket draped around Pidge’s shoulders and a laptop firmly within their grasp. Lance only rolled his eyes and jumped up onto the back of the couch, leaning forward to press his chin annoyingly on Pidge’s shoulder.

            “Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, Lance to computer gremlin.” Lance tapped Pidge on the cheek, getting only a grunt as acknowledgement. “Grumpy-pus. Grumpy cat. Grumpy Gremlin. Hey, hey, hey.” Pidge glared at Lance venomously.

            “ _What?_ ” Lance brushed off the aggressive tone like water on his skin. Emilia’s murder tone was a lot scarier. Not to mention it wasn’t like Pidge was point a gun between his eyes like some others had. It was like when you tried to compare a dog to a wolf. Both could do harm and even kill. One had more motive and tendency to do it however.

            That being said, having been attacked by a dog as a form of interrogation. Both were preferably avoided.

            “Pidgey, it’s been a solid eight hours since you logged on~ I keep track of this you know. So do you know what time it is? Dinner time~ Dinner, dinner, dinner, dinner time! Get yo ass up and give your computer gremlin ways a break for a solid half and hour and I’ll relinquish my hold.” Lance grinned even as Pidge glared.

            “Screw off Lance! I’m busy and I don’t have time!” Lance only smiled. A little more forced.

            “Pidge, buddy, pal, amigo. Get your ass up. You need food.” If Pidge was surprised by the serious tone, they didn’t show it. “I know you haven’t eaten at all today and you skipped dinner yesterday. Hunk made food.” And Pidge blew up.

            “What do you know about me?!?! Nothing! You know nothing! God, why are you so god damn annoying! Leave me the hell alone Lance! I don’t have time for your games or your flirting or any of it! Shove! Off!” Pidge was left panting after their fit of yelling, lungs burnings and exhausted. But even they weren’t too tired to immediately feel regret welling up and the quick shift in the room. However Pidge didn’t even get to dwell to much on it before a dangerous look passed Lance’s face and shook the younger teen. They’d never though they’d see a look so… cold… not on a guy like Lance.

            “I don’t know you? Pidge. You’re real name is Katie Holt. You’re a technological genius with absolutely no social skills, which is fine. You have a serious obsessive about finding your family, which is fine. Your favorite color isn’t green. It’s orange because that’s the jumpsuit picture you last had of Matt before he disappeared. You love peanut butter. You also don’t need those glasses. You just like to look like your brother because it makes you feel close to him.”

Lance didn’t stop there however.

“I pay attention to you. I know who you are because I care about you and your health and I listen to every damn word you say because I love you and respect you and I want you to be healthy and happy! But god damn it if it doesn’t get frustrating sometimes! I pay attention, that’s how I fucking know you despite what you think. I always listen and pay attention because I care.” Lance paused.

“But you wouldn’t know that about me, would you?” And Lance was gone within the second, storming out like a raging tide retreating back into its home of rough and violent ocean currents. Leaving Pidge shell shocked and quiet as they processed what Lance had just spat out at them. Because it was all true. It was all so true. And it made them want to cry. But it also made their mind race. Because if there was one thing they could pick apart it was Lance. Pidge wasn’t the best with social situations, but they knew the paladins like the back of their hand, right?

Keith, the angry hot head with a mullet and family issues. Shiro, their leader, strong, with family issues of his own and probably PTSD. Hunk, their other tech friend and a master chef, who was a little too anxious for maybe his own good. Allura had a whole set of issues, but stayed strong like a rock. Coran was their actual rock, emotionally balancing them out. And then there was Lance.

Jokester (But he never poked fun in the face of real danger)

Flirty (Yet it never felt real)

Simple (But there obviously was an enigma hidden in the glimpse Pidge had seen)

Stable (Was he really?)

What did she really know about Lance? Pidge knew psychology and knew mental illnesses and how to gauge reactions. It was how they passed mental exams at the Garrison, how they lied through their teeth to get in. And Lance… he never fit in right.

One moment he’d be laughing in the center of the room. The next he’d be silent, diligently taking notes. One moment he’d be smiling with his friends. The next he’d be looking at a bully with pure distain. A cold and cruel shine in his eyes and a blankness that unnerved Pidge to remember it. The more unnerving thought was that Pidge never remembered seeing the bully around after Lance left the room with them. Forced jovial smiles and playful nudges.

There was also the haunting of death that all the paladins faced. Pidge knew they were affected. Shiro had been dealing with it since before Voltron. It wore on him deeply and Pidge had no doubt he’d need some serious therapy after the war was fought. Even Pidge could see his fresh hesitation to end a breathing life however. The imperceptible pause. Keith channeled his anger in the moment. Slicing through the enemies. Only in the quiet of night did she see him looking at his hands in slight horror. The tears she pretended not to see in his eyes. Hunk was a whole slew of anxiety. It was obvious the only reason he ever pulled a lethal shot was to protect Pidge, who rarely, if never was part of the offensive if it wasn’t Voltron.

Lance however… it was terrifyingly mesmerizing to watch him fight. The fluidity that Lance worked between shooting and keeping people from getting close to him or any of the paladins. The silent set jaw that could only be seen out of his lion. Deep concentration. Lance was the first she’d seen to pull the trigger. She couldn’t look away. Watching how Lance pointed the gun at the Galran soldier with fluid and practiced ease and shot. Lance’s face blank with disinterest, eyes lit and dancing with emotions Pidge couldn’t relate or identify to. There was no anger. No sorrow. Only a sorting of acceptance, and another driving force with only the faintest touch of unseen grief. Grief that flickered out to acceptance as Hunk was saved by Lance’s fatal shot.

No one saw Lance take that shot. Pidge wasn’t even supposed to have seen it. She couldn’t look away from the camera however. And Pidge never said anything as she watched time after time. Never mentioned the subtle way Lance always covered his face from sight if he made a fatal blow in front of other eyes. She’d seen that blank look of near satisfaction and accepting pride only one more time after that. In the castle after Allura had been safely recovered from the Galran invasion of the castle. The deadness of a still ocean in Lance’s eyes as Pidge had silently watched his form slink away. Soaked with blood and limping with Coran. Allura had gathered most of Pidge’s attention then, and after that any thoughts of how that much blood got on Lance faded to the normal daily grind of enhancing the castle and finding Matt.

Pidge’s lanky fingers moved quietly and silently without thought. Pushing their other projects gently away. Before they pulled up the surveillance videos of the day Allura was kidnapped slowly. The castle automatically flagged and saved any cameras with movement as a way to conserve memory. Pidge held their breath. Uncertainty weighing with curiosity for the first time in a long time. But, it always won. And they clicked the video feed.

Immediately the video started. The back of Lance’s head already visible, as well as a Galran soldier. Pidge watch in worry as Lance didn’t even break stride. Bayard held tightly in his grasp as he moved. He looked so… different. His shoulders were back and each leg stride held purpose as his chin held up with poise. Lance looked like… royalty. Even as he easily placed the rifle to the back of the Galran’s head and leaned into his ear. Whispering words to quiet for the audio feed before shoving the Galra into the closest room.

            That video led to the whole semi horrifying, semi-fascinating scene of watching Lance torture the guard for information. A wide and almost unnatural grin as Lance nearly, gleefully, brought the Galran to the brink of death while constantly questioning him. Double checking answers and mocking him. Taking sadistic satisfaction in the blood, pain, and screams. The way Lance moved was constant. Almost like dancing.

            Dancing to the sound of screams.

            Like music.

            Pidge felt enraptured as they watched him walk out of the room. The blank concentration and the sickening light in his eyes dimming to set focus as he gunned down the Galra infested halls like they were nothing. Taking the stray bullet or knife in stride. It was like Lance was possessed. Angry with a calculated and calm composure. As if he didn’t feel the pain of wounds. Or the burning of his hands as his bayard began to smoke. Watches as he takes down the Galran soldier guarding Allura with his bare and burned hands and takes her to safety before even considering limping his own way for help.

            Everything he did was for them.

            And Pidge had just spat that in his face.

            More importantly.

            LANCE WAS A FUCKING BADASS!!!

            HE WAS LIKE THE GOD FATHER OR SOME SHIT! God, why didn’t he use that to pick up chicks cause that was so god damn cool!!! Lance had just gunned down an entire hallway of guards like they were toy soldiers in some five year old’s game of battle frontier! Pidge abandoned their laptop immediately and stormed through the hallways. Poking their head through every door they could until they finally found Lance in the lion’s hangar. A knife twisting in the air. Falling and ascending in a deadly and precise arc. Lance’s fingertips barely brushing the knife to cause its renewed ascension every time. It was so deceptively and delicately powerful. Masterfully controlled with effort and ease that only came with practice and knowledge.

            Pidge pointed a finger accusingly at Lance and screeched. “YOU’RE THE FUCKING GODFATHER AND YOU EXPECTED TO HIDE THAT SHIT FROM ME??? WHAT THE FUCK LANCE?! THIS IS MY ONE TIME TO SAY I KNOW A MEMBER OF THE FUCKNG MAFIA AND YOU TAKE THAT AWAY FROM ME???” Lance’s body jolted up in the surprise and Pidge almost regretted surprising Lance and worried about the knife until Lance was able to do damage control. Sending it clattering to the floor clumsily. As if he had no way of controlling it.

            Too bad Pidge had seen him using that knife

            Lance coughed into his fist, “Well. No, not really. I’m not going to be saying to leave a firearm and take a pastry anytime soon. Nor am I the head of the family. I’m just the son of my father. Who happens to be the head of the family… so I’m not the godfather yet. I won’t even be a capo for a while…” Pidge threw their hands up exasperatedly.

            “C’mon! You have to make this up to me. Tell me some cool shit!” Lance chuckled as Pidge practically threw themselves onto Lance to make him stay put. Glaring at him like a pouty child who wanted a story. It reminded him so much of his little cousins and his little niece and nephews that his resolve to keep those two sides of him completely separate crumbled.

            “There really isn’t many clue things to be honest. It’s a lot of work. A lot of negotiation. A lot of morally ambiguous decisions.” Lance chuckled ominously. “I am the youngest in my family, but they call me the dark prince of the McClain family for a reason I guess.” Pidge damn near had sparkles in their eyes.

            “I saw you torture that Galran. Have you done that before or was that improv?” Lance gave Pidge a weird look and a bemused smile.

            “Pidgey. I’m the fucking Dark. Prince. Please rethink your sentence computer gremlin. Yeah, I’ve… done that before. In the moment it’s only a rush. Like the most exhilarating adrenaline rush. All you feel is invincible. Powerful. Manipulative. Anything. You feel like what you want is in the palm of your hand. After its done and the high has worn down and you’re relaxing, you look back and you don’t know who that person in your skin was. I had never been guilty. I’ve accepted what I’ve done. I don’t regret it beyond mourning their loss and remembering I had no right in pulling their strings. But you don’t think like that in the act. You only thing after it. When that person is gone. Until you do it enough times and slowly you and that person aren’t strangers. You’re two people. One person really. Always. And if you’re doing it right… or at least… with some ethics. You’re doing it for a reason. I do it for my family, my loved ones, and right now… the rare occasion I lose control.” Lance looked straight to the young teen kneeling on his out stretched legs. Eyes wide and fastened on him with a child-like wonder. Lance smiled, looking Pidge straight in the eyes. Letting the foggy and hard eyes that always accompanied those memories turn warm and soft, just for them.

            “Now I do it for you.”

            Things only rolled on further after that. Pidge seeing the soft kink in his armor and jabbing at it demandingly for more stories. By the end of night having migrated to lay on Lance’s lap. Lance’s delicate and callused fingers carding through Pidge’s hair amazedly. Reverently. That something so young. So pure still. Was so relaxed with him. He was almost afraid he’d get blood in their hair, even when it was long since gone from his physical skin. Lance felt a demanding nudge in his mind. Looking up just in time to hear Blue snort.

            She said ‘I told you so.’

            Lance rolled his eyes, leaning against his beautiful girl’s paws. Looking out past Pidge to the vast space within his sight. Watching over his little sibling like a guardian watching diligently to eliminate any threat or harm to their charge. Space was scary. But he could be scarier. Sitting on his throne with poise and precision.

            He’d die for his family. He’d kill for his family. He’d live for his family.

            Lance looked down to Pidge’s sleeping face. Their glasses were scooting down their face and they’re long eyelashes were fluttered onto their cheeks as shallow breaths fell in and out of their mouth. Sleeping peacefully, dreamlessly, burdenlessly. Lance would keep them like that. Protect them from the world. He’d bring back their family and continue to shield them. Even if they rejected him after they didn’t need him anymore. With their own family again. No need for a killer of a puesdo-sibiling. And Lance’s lips did a rare thing when the monster prowled in place of him in the throne room.

            He smiled.


	6. Summer Dreamin'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PLOT TWIST

            How did things go so wrong so fast?

            The cell’s interior was cold, not painfully, but it was enough to unsettle his nerves. Enough to make his mind slip to places he didn’t want to go. It was a common earthen practice the Galran were using too he guessed. So, guessing what would be happening soon was easy enough. Lance gritted his teeth. His whole body ached with throbs, his skin was tight with dried blood and his black under suit was in pieces. Barely holding onto his body. The Galran found modesty a trivial thing he guessed.

            He was still bleeding. Lance searched through his mind, it was absent of the usual purrs and warm tides that meant Blue’s presence. She’d been knocked down and offline during their last fight. Lance hadn’t even stayed conscious, he’d only came to when the Galran had forced their way through Blue’s fail safe barrier and dragged him away, kicking and screaming for Blue and his team. Pebbles and gravel dug into Lance’s disorientated body. The smell and feeling of dog fur in his nose. Damp, musty, strangling air.

            What kind of useless prince was he?

            _Aw, look at the small prince. Do you feel how useless you are yet?_

            Lance snapped his head off the cold metal ground and looked down. Smooth and unblemished. The air in his lungs was clean and stale. Panting, his vision swirled but righted itself slowly just before light abruptly flooded the room, making Lance wince as the shadowed figure in the door chuckled. Tugging harshly at his binding once more. They were unmoving. Lance had the smallest thought that Valeria, the expert of bondage and escape attempts, would kill to get her hands on binding like this and taken maybe five minutes to break free from them. He however, was not Valeria. He would not be getting out anytime soon. Lance would have to take them with him if he-when he broke out.

            “Blue paladin.” Lance rolled his eyes.

            “Yes, Teletubby wanna-be?” A sharp slap whipped his head to the side enough to make the bones in his neck crack uncomfortably. His skin already felt hot and Lance could feel where the Galran’s claws had split his flesh apart. It was a deep cut, he could feel the cold air on his tongue without opening his mouth. It made him forcefully hold back a shudder as the pain flooded into him like a hot venom. The Galran smirked down at him cruelly. With tan skin and black stubbled and straight teethed sneer. No. Galran’s had purple fur and sharp canines. Lance blinked his vision clear.

            _I think my dogs are dying to see you again Lance, you were always their favorite._

Another swipe of Galran claws had him jerking back at the familiar feeling of animal nails digging harshly and burningly into his skin. Making him moan out in pain. Barely holding back a scream with a breathy whimper. The Galran smiled again.

            “It will be so fun to break you.”

            _It will be so fun to break your family._

The Galran grabbed his collarbone and _d r a g g e d_ his _~~knife~~ _ claws against Lance’s chest. Electing a loud scream as Lances rib bones carved and cracked bit by bit under the force. The Galran only laughing at his suffering. Taking more swipes at his legs and arms. Before grabbed Lance by the hair and yanking his head back. Lance gasped and choked.

            _He’d been in this dark stall of the barn for days. The cuts from the pebbles and straw in the gravel of the floor were now infected. Lance felt like he was being burned alive from the inside out. But anything was better than those dogs. That. Traitor._

_His whole body ached and thrummed with nervous energy and pain. The bite marks and claw marks of both human and animal design sickened Lance as he huddled in the corner silently. Berating himself silently as tears slid quietly down his face until the barn door opened with a soft creak and his long hair was once again grabbed roughly. Lance forced onto his knees and head restrained back to reveal his bruised and vulnerable neck. His scalp burned._

_“Let’s have some more fun Lancey Lance.”_

Lance gasped as a jolt ran through him. Like a static shock on steroids. It seized up his muscles and made him jerk. Made his open wounds clench and write in agony as Lance choked, breath escaping him for mere moments before his lungs worked to inhale fully again. A sparking rod was now in the Galran’s hand.

            “Now, now, I can’t have you passing out on me now. I need you to pay your penitence.”

            _“You can use your body to repent your disgusting family’s crime against me.”_

            Lance gritted his teeth, the tan figure was back in front of him. One of his arms hung loosely at his side. The cuffs were loose, the electricity shock has unstabilized them. All Lance saw was a chance. A due. All traitors needed to be marked. All traitors needed their sign to repent their treachery. A deep scar right on the face they would have to look at for the years they survived their toxic life. Especially the tan figure in front of him that smirked so cruelly after snatching him from his warm bed. Taking him from his home. Lance’s hand found a discarded piece of metal on the floor. Sharp and gnarled. It would do the trick as quick as lighting, Lance forced his restrained legs up high enough to rip into the tan flesh. It bled purple as Lance was subsequently hit. His head slamming against the ground roughly. Making Lance seeing spinning black dots that looked scarily like Dobermans with beady, vicious eyes. Drooling for when they could rip into him again.

            Filled with cotton and disassociation. Lance couldn’t even say he felt as the Galran dug in his rage filled claws into his body again, and again, and again, and _a g a i n._ And Lance tumbles into a darkness. Feeling only the sensation of warm water lapping at his feet. Wet sand.

            Lance opened his eyes again. Surprised at the bright blue skies and endless blue horizon in front of him. A bitter chuckle left his lips as the breeze brushed through his blood free hair, the salt of the ocean only feeling pleasant against his whole and healed skin. “So, it is true. Near the end, you can only see home.”

            “Well, I wouldn’t say that. I think you see home when you need it the most.” Lance looked to his right, seeing Emilia smiling at him. Her curly brown hair fell in loose rings around his shoulders as a casually elegant blue and white dress covered her slightly tan skin. More fair than Lance, but by no means pale. Emilia smiled at Lance. “It’s not the end either. It’s not like Tío leaving for the other side. You’re only going to Garrison for a few years at most. You’ll still be able to see us. Remember? We’re always right here.” Emilia pressed a professionally manicured nail against his chest teasingly, before pulling it away to look at the ocean head on.

            _“Just you remember to always come home to us.”_

            The room was screaming as the beaches and warm days melted away. Leaving only Lance to barely grasp at the lost memory. The day before he’d left for Garrison. The last day he’d seen Emilia. Red light bathed the cell. It reflected off of the red pool that Lance’s pale and weak body was laying in. It was uncomfortable wet and it felt disgusting. But Lance could barely turn his head. He would not be getting up unless by a pure miracle.

            Suddenly though the world is setting spinning again as rough hands grab him and lift his limp and bloody body nearly a foot off the ground roughly handling him and screaming in his face,

            _“How did they find us?! Who did you tell?! You won’t live to regret this.”_

“How did the paladins find out ship?! Who did you signal? Tell me you pathetic worm!” Lance’s lung squeezed out a sigh as his head lulled back lazily. Light headed, sick to his stomach, and a body still stuffed with cotton as a soft and relieved smile crossed his face. His family. They were coming to get him. It wasn’t his familia, but it was his family. He was so happy.

            Tight claws wrapped around his throat as his body was slammed into a wall. Making Lance’s bones protest and crack further under the intense pressure. Lance’s lungs squeezed and burned as his injuries and organs burned as if lava had replaced the blood barley pumping out of his veins.

            “I’ll just have to kill you now. We can’t have Voltron ruining us any longer.”

            _“I’ll just kill you here and now. It would have been more fun to play longer, but I can’t have your family ruINING MY LIFE! ANY LONGER!”_

Clarity and reality all rush back to him and bombard him as he’s dropped with a violent shriek on pain from the Galran above him. His throat opens up and his lung gasp as what little air his broken ribs allow him to gulp as he tries to breath. Shooting. There are shots coming towards them and going towards the two down the hall. White, black, and red. Not blood red. Bright cherry red. Keith. Shiro.

            “ _L A N C E ! ! !”_

“LANCE!!!”

            Family. A prince allows serves him family. He couldn’t… let… Keith… be hurt. How would he make fun of his mullet and tease him if Keith was dead or in a pod?

            Lance’s leg felt like leg. But with adrenaline pumping newly into his shivering cold and pale body. Lance forced the weak and maimed broken limb up to lash out at the back of the Galran soldier’s knee. Dropping the purple alien like a sack of potatoes as Lance sagged. Almost melting back to the floor from the new out pouring of blood and pain in his leg and the reopened claw wounds in his abdomen. The kick must have stress the unstable and deep wound. The puddle Lance had been lying in earlier was quickly being remade beneath him now. Exhaustion gripping him by his shivering and cold bones. Lance didn’t even have the strength to try and staunch the bleeding with pressure. It was so cold. He was so tired.

            He wanted the warm beaches.

            Lance watched with dazed and cloudy eyes as two blurry figures crouched over him. One with black silky hair. It was shorter than it normally was. Didn’t Emmy usually grow it out to her ribs? She must be trying something new. It looked nice. Though the red and white blurry outfit could use work. It looked familiar as the blurry figure propped up his head by the base of his skull. He could hear the faint panicked yelling, but it sounded like he was miles beneath the ocean waves. Too far to understand Emilia. She was scared. Oh. His mouth slurred and moved on its own accord.

            “It’s ‘kay Emmy, ‘m goin’ ‘ome wit’ Tío.”

            And Lance was washed under the waves.


	7. Let's Not Find Out

            Coming to had always been a strange feeling, albeit not an unfamiliar feeling. The slight roll in his stomach from various pain killers, the tightness in his chest from bandages, the heavy weight of his skin on his body. His eyelids that were more like obstacles to his sight rather than protection for his eyes. His body ached and burned like a sore muscle. His leg twitched, but it felt restrained. Stuck.

            Trapped.

            He needed to get out. Out. Out. OUT.

            His limbs weren’t responding however, it was cold. Like a liquid clogging up his joints and covering his entire body. Freezing cold and weightless. It was like he was submerged in the ocean. Lance’s mind scrambled. He wasn’t home. He was far from it. He’d been in the Galran… no, Keith and Shiro came. Was, he in the cryopods? Lance’s eyes forced themselves open just in time for the weightless feeling to drop from him suddenly, dragging him down to the ground with a pop and a hiss. Leaving him flailing as his limbs failed to catch him, spending him spiraling to the floor. Until strong arms caught him right before he and his traitor noodle limbs could flop to the ground.

            “Ah! Lance! My dear boy I do believe you’ve lost some weight. Well, Hunk’s been baking enough for entire planet so I wouldn’t worry!” Lance’s lips immediately sighed and quirked up into a fond smile. His hands grasping a little tighter onto Coran’s sleeves as the man propped him up onto his legs, which still shook with the effort.

            “Coran, you always say I’m too light.”

            “You’re skin and bones!” Lance snorted.

            “You’re not complaining now, it’s no secret about half the people here could bench press me in their sleep. If you haven’t looked at Shiro or Hunk you’re blind.” Coran made a sound of indignation, still half holding Lance up as the male toed out of the healing chamber suit. Visibly averting his eyes at the sight of Lance’s new scars. With a glance down, Lance didn’t blame him.

            The scars were stark white against his skin, gnarled and ugly. It just added to the collection of bullet wounds and slash marks. They weren’t even the first scar tissue made by claws. Just, these claws had been a hell of a lot bigger. Lance averted his own eyes as he managed to squirm into his shirt.

            “You are maybe half of Hunk’s weight sopping weight, how is that healthy for your species?” Lance shrugged.

            “Body types differ around humans I guess, where is he by the way?” A voice interrupted Lance’s question.

            “Coran? Where are the-? Lance! Lance!” Lance didn’t have to turn around to hear the clatter of a dropped pan and the sound of rushed footsteps. Lance simply wriggled out of Coran’s grasp and opened his arms, allowing himself to be crushed in his best friend’s arms. “Lance, don’t you dare, ever scare me like that again. I will personally hunt you down and drag you back down. You can deal with your angry relatives.” Lance laughed.

            “Hunk, buddy, pal, amigo, the light of my life. Please, never deal with my angry relatives without me even if I don’t die.” Hunk snorted, but chose not to say anything. Only holding Lance tighter against him. Lance bones groaned in a sore agony, but he ignored it. Closing his eyes and melted into the embrace. His best friend needed him. Or maybe it was the other way around.

            “Hunk? Wait! I get dibs on the middle!” The tan male didn’t even bother to open his eyes, only maneuvering to allow the smallest body to squish into the now group hug. Pidge’s joint practically dug into all of his sore points and tender spots, but Lance’s arms refused to let go.

            God, he’d missed them so much. It’d been torture.

            Literally. Hah.

            Pidge would kill him for that joke.

            After a few moments they let go, all of them sporting massive grins. The Garrison trio was whole again. Pidge was the one who grinned the widest though, grabbing Lance’s hand and smirking.

            “Now, we’re going to the kitchen, you’re gonna get food and then we’re going to… chat.” Hunk looked alarmed.

            “Ah, what exactly does that-?” Lance waved Hunk off.

            “You mean you want whatever Hunk won’t let you eat without my approval and want to attempt to corner me into telling you stories. How close am I?” Pidge’s eyes twinkled with mirth as Hunk gave a sigh, eyes rolling.

            “Almost. It’s not attempting if it happens?” Lance whined.

            “Hunkkk, Pidge is harassing the cripple.” Hunk stared at Lance as if he’d grown a third head. Wide and unbelieving. Even Pidge was staring. “What? I had at least an injured leg. I can hear Emilia calling me gimpy from here.”

            “Lance, you had four fractures in your left leg alone. Your ribs were practically powder and you had more blood on your clothes than in your body.” Lance paused, contemplating, before he gave a frown and glared at Pidge.

            “That makes me a cripple squared! That’s even worse! Hunk, why are you letting her get away with stuff like this? The little gremlin is a menace!” Pidge cackled happily and Hunk’s sigh seemed to almost make his entire body sag. Coran only chuckled softly as he put the cryopod into rest mode and let the three teens drag themselves to the kitchen. Lance basically being carried by the two as he subtly limped in between the two. Until Pidge sprinted off and Hunk threw Lance over his shoulder, running just on her heels. Their laughter shrieked through the hallways. Coran smiled, children would be children. He hummed, turning off the healing pod with a satisfied smile.

            He was glad to see his favorite was still among them.

\---

            “Hunk! We’re gaining on her!!! I think.” Hunk snorted, readjusting his grip on Lance, who was stomach down on his shoulders in a fire man’s carry. Lance’s head hanging loosely just to the left of Hunk’s chest. It made the older male worry a little bit, with how Lance’s head jerked around as it dangled, but the wide grin on his best friend’s face melted away the anxiety like a drug.

            “It’s the little legs I swear to god, we have longer steps, but she has like four strides in one of ours. She’s leading four to two! hUNK AMIGO!” Hunk narrowly dodges the random item, he thinks it’s that space pseudo granola bars, that comes hurtling at them a Pidge cackles. Hunk however, also trips over his feet and the two go shrieking and crashing to the ground right in the door of the kitchen. Lance rolling just feet in front of Hunk as they both groan and clutch various body parts. Pidge grins above them, sitting cross legged on the table.

            “How’s the fall boys?” Lance doesn’t even say anything, just throws a convenient shoe at her, Hunk’s boot he thinks. Lance holds his ribs that had hit the ground the hardest and groans on the floor.

            “My bruises have bruises you heathen. Cripple squared.” A flicker of guilt flashes in Pidge’s eyes. “Getting stabbed and other various things I’ve felt still hurt worse, try harder than that gremlin.” Pidge grins at the challenge and Hunk manages to stumble to his feet enough to stabilize his stance and lift Lance’s limp body off the ground. The tan male swoons and groans again. “I have nothing in my stomach, but something wants out. I hate the tea cup rides so much more now.” Pidge just rolled her eyes as Lance limped to the nearest chair, Hunk striding over to the kitchen and Pidge grabbing her lap top and plopping herself onto Lance’s lap before starting to work. Basically using Lance as a human chair. Not that the tan male seemed to mind as he simply laid his head on top of Pidge’s and watched quietly, arms wrapped securely around her waist so she wouldn’t slip.

            “Lance! Lance!” Two voices echoed down the hallway, only stopping short as they halted at the mouth of the kitchen to the peaceful and domestic sight with a bit of both relief, fondness, and confusion. Keith watched it quietly as he and Shiro slunk into the room, still staying at the fringes. Watching.

            Hunk had always reminisced about the days when Pidge, Lance, and him would just hang out and play games, or quietly work in tangent. Keith knew they were a team. He remembered watching Lance lead, self-sacrificing, a confidence in his position. Eyes straight ahead like that of a predator. He’d also seen the silly Lance that liked to flirt with everyone (except him irritatingly enough). The way Lance would tease his friends, dramatically fall into Hunk’s arms pretending to sob at little inconveniences. He also remembered seeing Lance laying on the ground, a pool of crimson beneath him, shards of flesh and bone peeking out of his body, the glazed and unfocused way those ocean filled eyes stared at the ceiling. Keith had never hated the color red more.

            Yet, those Lances were much different than the Lance he was seeing now, the vibrant boy with a loud voice and heart was just quiet. Curled around Pidge with a gentle smile (why couldn’t he smile like that at them?) holding tightly as if some outside force was going to try and rip the girl from his grasp. The soft murmurs of Lance and the snarky replies of Pidge, and occasionly the low humming rumble of Hunk echoing like a siren’s peaceful song in the kitchen.

            It was bizarrely unlike Lance, yet it suited him. The domesticity. The peace.

            Keith was just about to leave Shiro’s own watchful side to squirm his way into the last open seat near Lance -Hunk was always at Lance’s left side, Keith was in no mood to fight and lose- When Allura walked in like a quiet wind. Powerful and calm, and breezing past Keith to take the seat Keith was just about to occupy. Shiro just observed with wide eyes as the princess’ whole demeanor changed.

            Once where there was a distaste and cordial air there was an undertone of respect and comradery as Shiro watched both Lance and the princess stare and acknowledge each other, before Lance’s mouth split into a wide grin and Allura snorted, an amused smile spreading across her face.

            “If I could rearrange the alphabet I’d put u-s, together.” Allura rolled her eyes, yet no enraged and disgust comment spat back to Shiro’s surprise. The princess only smoothed her hair over one shoulder and examined her nails.

            “Why? N and O are already together.”

            “Your eyes are looking gorgeous from here.”

            “I know,” A bemused smirk formed on her lips. “You’re eye bags look rather striking today as well.” Lance gasped, forcing Shiro to almost let lose a laugh himself. The Hispanic boy placed a hand over his chest as if he were hurt. Making Pidge bat as his limbs, annoyed that he moved from her comfortable position. Allura and Lance just grinned and settled back down enough that Hunk was able to slip them plates of food and move into his spot beside Lance. It made Shiro frown in thought.

            How long had it been like this? How had he not seen the changing dynamics in the team, or noticed how Lance had changed as well? Shiro glanced at Keith, who seemed to be watching with the same curious look. As well as the restrained desperation. Keith had been torn up when they found Lance. Reluctant to even leave the healing pod or let Lance out of his sight. Shiro still felt a shudder of fear and pure rage whenever he saw the image of Lance’s near lifeless form. Their Lance. Sweet, innocent, bubbly, beautiful Lance.  Broken and nearly silent on the cold metal ground. Keith wanted physical reassurance, see and feel that Lance was warm, safe, and alive.

            Shiro gave Keith another glance and the dark haired man seemed to nod, which led Shiro to advance forward. He was so close, just inches, he could just reach out and touch Lance, Shiro wouldn’t, not without permission. But he wondered if Lance’s hair was as soft as it looked. A rich brown that swayed just slightly in the whispers of the room’s internal air currents.

            “Shiro, Keith!” And he glanced back, his hand falling to his side as Lance barely even responded, almost half asleep on Pidge’s head as the Garrison trio and the princess held their quiet chatter. Shiro gave a soft smile, resisting the urge to put a small kiss on the crown of Lance’s head and instead reaching back and grabbing Keith’s hand to pull him along before Keith would attempt to escape so he could quietly stalk Lance. Coran greeted them in the hallway with a large smile before placing his hand on the backs and ushering them away from the kitchen.

            “Just a little calibration for the training room is all, I want to avoid any major injuries, well, the one’s that can’t be helped.” His grip on them tightened just as they approached the training room, making them stop to glance at him questioningly, until he gave them a dark smile, “Just so you know however, Lance is my favorite, and I understand your feelings, encourage them even. But if you hurt him… well, we can always get new paladins.”

            Immediately the dark look was gone and they were being shoved into the training room by a bright cheerful grin. The door locking solidly behind them. “Good luck!!!” Keith and Shiro both looked at each other, shocked. A shudder went down Shiro’s spine. Allura had always intimidated him, he’d seen Coran as the level and harmless one. He’d been very wrong. Coran was just patient.

            “He doesn’t actually mean that does he…?”

            “Let’s… not find out.”


	8. Breathing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You guys are going to hate me after this, so please enjoy this while you don't want to murder me ;)

            Breathing, as easy as it sounds, isn’t always easy.

            His lungs are constricted and heavy as he leans on the balls of his feet. His limbs move simply, in practiced movements as he circled the tan brunette. His dark hair laid across his shoulders in sweaty strands.

            He looked so healthy and vibrant. Lance’s legs moved with a graceful fluidity as they circled each other. Lance’s chest rose and fell strongly, barely panting as he recovered from their last round of sparring. Yet, it didn’t quell the desperation. The images of Lance bloody and broken, that gorgeous body with stuttering and shallow breaths. Spasming as his systems began to fail. The way his blue eyes fell into the back of his head.

            Keith choked, but gritted his teeth, choosing to lunge at Lance quickly, his body doing to the motions as his mind and heart raced in completely opposite directions. He didn’t want to fight Lance, even sparring. Not when the image of Lance nearly lifeless still danced behind his eyelids. But Keith was shit at communication. How do you say that you don’t want to let someone out of your sight?

            ‘ _Hey, you kinda scared me and I kinda like you, so I just want to basically hold on to you and not let go, for days, because you terrified me and I really wanna know you’re not dead and having your mouth on mine would be really nice. Or you kissing my boyfriend would be cool too, preferably where I can watch.’_

_Yeah, no._

            Lance parried and countered with a few quick steps. But it wasn’t quick enough. A Galra would have him in an instant, a Galra could take him again in just an instant. And Keith would be too slow again. They couldn’t both be too slow. Lance always had those high sniper positions, nearly a mile away from them if they got the chance to do actual recon. Surprise attacks were worse though. Even if Lance was closer. Because Lance was always at the back of the group, chatting with the locals. Fluttering like a social butterfly and lighting up the room.

            Also, the easiest to corner and target.

            Lure away to a place where Keith would never see him again.

            Keith shot a fist out, and Lance let out a grunt when it hit his lower stomach. But besides that he went with the hit and used it for momentum to lash a kick out. The dark haired male grabbed it easily. But it had been quicker than when they had started. Lance was tiring, and running more on instinct. Keith could see it. But instinct wouldn’t always save him. Improving like Lance was great.

            But improving didn’t settle the screaming in his head that Lance would leave him.

            Just like everyone else.

            Another second and next thing Keith knew Lance was pinned beneath him. Panting with a dark flush on his cheeks, Keith’s hand on his chest right next to his neck. Blue eyes looking up at him tiredly, before Lance head falls back to the ground. He was so pretty.

            “Alright, I got it. I suck.” Lance pushed at his chest, breaking Keith out of his thoughts as he moved off Lance and to the side. A bubble was in his chest, threatening to burst as Lance got up onto his feet, eyes narrowed and body swaying with fatigue. He’d taken it too far again. He could see it in the drag of Lance’s body. But, Lance needed to get better. Keith needed to _be_ better. “I’m going to shower, I’m tired, a walking bruise and I smell absolutely disgusting.” And Lance was gone in a blink, leaving Keith still on the ground lost in thoughts.

            Why did he always fuck up the things he loved most?

            Keith let his head fall into his hands, sweat was sticky on his skin and clothes, but he barely paid any attention to it as he stumbled to his feet. His own body was thrumming with lost adrenaline and exhaustion. Nearly shaking. Keith let out a shuddering breath. He didn’t want to lose another one.

            He didn’t want to lose anything else.

            Especially not because of his own actions.

            His feet moved before his head did, already processing any socially acceptable way to apologize to the blue paladin. Anything he came up with sounded so fake, so rehearsed. Keith cursed himself as he continued speed walking to the nearest shower room. Why couldn’t Shiro be here? Shiro was the one that was good with words, not him.

            What if he didn’t think about it? Lance was always telling him to be looser and more relaxed. This could be a good way to start, if he sounded like a bumbling idiot? Lance would at least get a laugh out of it he guessed.

            The sound of his footsteps got louder as he hit the tiled flooring of the shower room. The clicking of his soles was almost painfully loud as Keith barged into the shower room, the start of apologies just on the tip of his tongue before his mouth went bone dry and his eyes nearly fell out of his head.

            Dear heaven, there is a god.

            And wash board abs.

            Lance’s back was too him and a pair of boxers were hanging low on his hips, just on the curve of sharp hip bones as his body angled so Keith could perfectly see the way his muscles stretched and climbed around his abs and hips to the strong and broad shoulders on Lance’s body. Scars and little wounds dotted Lance’s tan skin nearly everywhere, marring the gorgeous canvas of Lance’s flesh in a scarily sexy way.

            And dear god he had a tattoo.

            Right on the place where Lance’s rib cage peeked out from under his chest was where the black ink curved beautifully on Lance’s figure. Keith could feel the thrumming of his heart, the carving to count out every groove and muscle on Lance’s body, to worship each toned part and scar with his lips and his tongue. To drop on his knees and god damn pray. ‘Forgive me Father, for I have sinned,’ with tallies lining up Lance’s rib cage like little markers. Keith was stepping closer before he could even realize it, making Lance look over his shoulder at him. Surprise painting those blue eyes before a cocky grin lit up his face.

            “What? Speechless? Some people aren’t meant to have clear skin I guess…” Lance tilted his head, grin still on those perfect lips. God, it had to be illegal, this gorgeous boy had to have witch craft or something of that. There was no way this heaven sent boy was even remotely human. Lance ran a hand down his body, and Keith watched it like his life depended on it. “Sorry for the view though, not everyone gets blessed with flawless human skin, as pretty skin as mine is anyway. You got flawless and the alien thing working for you though. That’s cool as hell.”

            The dark haired boy felt it in the air, the waver of anxiety, the subtle nervous tilt in Lance’s body. Keith felt a glimmer of anger. All of that self-deprecation? He was nipping it in the bud, it didn’t have a place here. Or anywhere in Lance’s head. Hell. No.

            “You’re nuts if you’re not calling your body perfect. It’s fucking flawless.” Lance’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline, but Keith kept going, moving forward and grabbing Lance’s hips. Holding him still, not letting him run away before he was done knocking some sense into that gorgeous boy’s _thick skull_. “Have you seen your abs? I would die for abs like that, your scars are sexy as all hell to. Like stories and memories on your skin. I would kill to know even just one of them.” Lance looked away from him, a start of red flushing at his ears and the base of his neck.

            “You could ask you know.” Keith’s breath caught in his throat as Lance’s hands moved to his own hands, guiding them up to feel the ridges of thickened scar tissue. Keith’s fingers curled to a nasty knife wound, dug deep into Lance’s side, the skin was white and faded with age, a stark contrast to the puckered pink scars from Lance’s recent injuries.

            “What’s this one.” Lance chuckled, his hands on Keith’s forearms for balance as their bodies nearly brushed against each other with each breath.

            “I didn’t tie him down well enough. In my defense, he was squirming way too much for someone with three bullets in his stomach. My sister took care of him for that one though. She was so pissed.” Keith let out a small chuckle.

            “I would be pissed to, but why were you?”

            “Tying up a dying man? It was for my dad, early birthday present. He ran a rival gang that honestly just a plain mess. We were getting sick of them honestly. Had to show them which family was really in charge.”

            “You act like fighting gangsters is a normal thing.”

            “… How would you react if I said my family was a mafia?” Keith looked up from his exploration of Lance’s body, the expression was relaxed and almost joking, but Keith could see it, the tightening in his muscles, coiled, the shreds of anxiety in those ocean blue eyes. The fear of rejection. When Keith honestly didn’t care either way.

            “I would say that makes at least a little sense. And that you better own at least one pair of brass knuckles or you have failed as a stereotypical mobster.” Lance laugh, low and melodically, warm laugh for even warmer skin underneath Lance’s hands.

            “I’m sorry, but I am the son of a mafia family, not a hallmark gangster movie, I’m sorry if I’m disappointing you like that.” 

            “You’re totally letting me down. But you can make up for that.”

            “How may I atone this grievous fault?” Lance’s teasing smirk was wiped off his face in almost seconds as Keith grabbed a towel and looped it around Lance’s waist and moved backward. Tugging Lance along with him out of the shower rooms. Luckily, Lance stayed silent as Keith almost giddily dragged him along.

            Did Shiro know about…? This? Shiro had never mentioned it during Keith aggravated, pining fueled venting. They’d never even mentioned anything like it when they fantasized about their crush. Maybe Shiro was staying quiet for Lance to tell Keith on his own? Or maybe Keith is the only one Lance has told yet. Keith shook the thoughts from his head. It didn’t matter right now.

            Right now, Keith was a man on a mission.

            That mission was to force comfort and love on a stupid, insecure boy.

            Lance cried out when Keith shoved Lance into his room and onto the bed, closing the door firmly and not giving Lance any time before Keith was laying on top of Lance, not unlike their previous sparring session, but also, not quite. Surprisingly, Keith found that a firm and warm chest made a great pillow. Even when they were squirming and stuttering.

            “Keith, Keith, you have a boyfriend, this is… just… Keith I have my own bed.” Keith clapped a hand over Lance’s mouth.

            “Pillows don’t talk.”

            “But-“

            “Shush.” Keith’s limbs tightened around Lance firmly and Keith bit his lip. He didn’t want Lance to leave. But he also didn’t want to keep him here if Lance didn’t want him. Keith’s arms moved to let go until Lance released a soft sigh and wrapping his arms around Keith too. Not minding the sweaty training outfit as he squirmed to a more comfortable position, and Keith finally breathed easy. Lance breathing just breath him. Whole. Together.

            Keith closed his eyes with a sigh.

            This, was exactly what he’d needed.


	9. Fearless Leader

            There was light everywhere, shots fired everywhere and Lance could hear Shiro screaming over the coms. Directing orders, telling people to keep him in sight. There was just a slight problem on Lance’s end.

            He was completely surrounded, by purple.

            And apparently a full floor down from the other paladins as he may or may not have accidently taken a dive through a floor. His back ached a bit, but Lance only gripped tighter onto his bayard and shot his way through the hallways. The sentries barely grazing him half the time as he marched on. Eventually ending up in a massive open space, the ceiling reaching up floors past his. The bright starlight peeking out through the windows.

            “Lance?! Where are you?” Shiro’s voice cut through the shots and the fight like the calm of a hurricane.

            “Oh! I see him! Lance! Look up and wave you bastard!” Lance glanced up, he could see Pidge leaning over the rail with wide exuberant gestures. Waving with a large grin Lance could see in his mind’s eye. Lance grinned back, waving with his bayard in hand.

            “How’d you get down there even? Don’t tell me you jumped.” Lance laughed as Hunk fretted behind Pidge, even as Shiro stopped to stare at Lance from the upper levels.

            “Jump off one school building, and you’ve jumped off every high platform. I just got lost, dunno how I got here. Oh hey, is Keith with you guys or is he the glowing red thing?” Pidge glanced to her right, Keith was jogging down the hall just within Pidge’s sights.

            “Ah shit, it’s not mullet man! Catch ya on the other side! BEAM ME UP SCOTTY” Lance ran with a whoop. Bayard held tightly as he darted away from the Galra hot on his heels, and to Shiro’s horror. Pidge only whooped.

            “TAKE THEM TO THE MATTRESSES!”

            “PIDGEON FOR THE LAST TIME I’M NOT THE GOD FATHER, WE’VE TALKED ABOUT THIS!”

            Hunk let out a sigh and shook his head, leaning against the railing and watching as Lance fired shot after shot with quick precision. Executing kicks and slipping past guards when they managed to get to close. The way Lance fought was elegant and graceful, so calm, practiced. And brutal.

            It sent a shiver down Shiro’s spine.

            Did he turn these kids, sweet Lance, into trained fighters.

            Soldiers?

            Keith grinned to Shiro’s immense surprise, his helmet propped on his hip. “Ever been in a fight like this before Lance?” More shots fired, the bayard in Lance’s hand was almost smoking. Lance could feel it searing into his skin, almost melting the black under suit like a second skin, yet he was able to snark back at Keith while keeping his attention on the fight.

            “Believe it or not, usually it’s the other way around. Turf wars and gang fights. All that jazz. And my sisters don’t like to share. Spectating is just as fun though believe it or not. No matter what side you’re on. Especially if you can get an AK or a flamethrower.”

            What.

            “Have you ever even handled a flamethrower, sharpshooter?”

            “I’ve handled your lion once mullet man.”

            What.

            Shiro’s head spun, when had Lance? He mentioned siblings on earth, but he had not mentioned gang wars or… Shiro’s stomach flipped. Making him light headed and nauseous. He’d only ever seen one gang. The one that had constantly murdered and dealt drugs in the neighborhood of his childhood. It was bad memories. But, it… Lance… he was probably just talking. Imagination and no brain to mouth filter. He’d have a conversation with Lance after the mission and get it sorted out.

            Lance, with that giant smile as bright as the sun. Sweet, funny. Charming Lance.

            It’d all be okay.

            “Guys, I am flattered at your belief in me, but I really think we need to split soon. My armor is melting into my hands. It’s not terrible, but it’s also not _fun_ by any means.” Shiro saw Lance’s bayard smoking in his hands. Saw the subtle tenseness in Lance’s back as the paladins snapped to action with various curse words.

            “Got it, Hunk! Let’s move out. I already got the data anyway. Lance! You’re gonna go back the way you came. Straight down, you’ll hit an elevator. I’ll hack it and get you to the right floor. Blue should be able to reach you there. See you at the finish line, Godfather.” Pidge gave a smirk, making Shiro roll his eyes, ignoring the small flinch in his subconscious at the nickname. The sour taste in the back of his throat.

            This was his family. His heart. Everything would work out just fine.

\---

            Nothing was just fine. N o t h i n g.

            How could Lance, how could he be? It didn’t make sense. Sweet Lance, so kind, gentle, funny, sweet. Innocent. Was it all just a lie? Just a stupid fucking lie?

            Lance who shared food with Pidge, when Hunk only let him have the first taste. When he helped Hunk to make said pieces of food. Him leaning over Pidge and draping a blanket over her exhausted form. Lance practically vibrating as he chatted with Allura, excitement everywhere in his form. The way he leaned closer to listen to Coran’s endless stories. The graceful bobbing and dodging of Keith and Lance’s bodies as they spared. The peaceful way Lance’s eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks, falling asleep curled like a child in between Hunk and Shiro on movie night. Staying up with Shiro through the night when the nightmares got too real. Soft touches to his eyelids and cheeks when Lance thought him to be asleep. Shiro’s chest burned. Nausea rolling in him.

            Was that all a lie?

            _“Lance, what you guys were joking about on the mission? Is it… real?”_

_“Yeah Shiro. I… yes, it’s true. Shiro? Are you-?”_

            He hadn’t been able to stay, his team mates bewildered glances to each other, each of them knowing. He hadn’t known. Lance hadn’t told him yet. Until Lance did. Shiro clenched his fists. Lance had been truthful. He didn’t dodge the question. But Shiro still couldn’t see straight. His head spun and he felt like he was going to collapse.

            Shiro huddled in his room, arms wrapped tightly around himself. Hands clutching at his sides as he curled on himself, keening as he tried to keep his inner hurts in, and try to soothe them at the same time. All he could see was the blood and the screams. Wrecking his life. His home. The weariness in his parents’ eyes. Hushed words, shoved around corners.

            Easy to say this wasn’t working.

            Gentle raps at his door broke Shiro from his thoughts softly, making Shiro look up with a shuddering breath as the voice behind it spoke. “Shiro. It’s me, Keith. Can you come out? Please babe?” Shiro shivered, but still pulled himself to his feet, quietly stitching himself together as he slowly opened the door. Keith was there, in his normal clothes, holding his mother’s knife tightly, but he still gave a small smile when Shiro poked his head out.

            “That’s it, c’mon big guy. We. Need to have a little meeting. Lance won’t be there, we want to get a few things off our chest and get you to know just a little more before you see him again. Right in the common room, okay?” Shiro was ashamed as he relaxed. He... he wasn’t ready to face Lance yet, he needed time to process. But god did it hurt.

            How do you love someone, yet fear them at the same time?

            His metal fingers grasped at Keith’s hand and the shorter man tugged him along the hallways into a living room the other paladins and the Altean were huddled close, whispering quietly with each other. Pidge was curled into Hunk, a space at her feet and Hunk’s side blaringly obvious. Coran was sitting next to them, wild gestures and wide smiles. Shiro gave a smile too and sat on the couch as Keith cleared his throat.

            “Well… um, I found out Lance was a gang member when we sparred. He had a hell of a lot of scars. And a pretty gnarly tattoo.” Pidge laughed and pointed at Keith mockingly.

            “Ha! I found a video of Allura’s kidnapping… I then harassed him into telling me a bunch of stories and yelled mafia references at him and I also watched him throwing a knife. It was pretty damn cool.” Hunk got a contemplative look on his face.

            “I had a nightmare, I went to Lance and saw him sleeping with a knife under his pillow last month, we had a small talk. I wasn’t really expecting it. But, I know Lance. I know Lance would never hurt me of us. He loves us like we’re family.” Pidge stared at Hunk.

            “Hunk, you told me how Lance had a shot gun in his closet. C’mon. You roomed with him, you went to his house for Christmas. How did you not know sooner?!”

            “I thought it was a decorative gun! And they a perfectly nice, affluential family!”

            “The box of knives under his bed?”

            “Everyone has hobbies! Excuse me for not judging!” Hunk held his hand dramatically over his chest.

            “THE GOD DAMN BAZOOKA STORY???”

            “Uh, he knows you? Who knows who you know or what you have lying around. We weren’t as close back in the Garrison you know?”

            “True though. Very true.”

            Shiro watched the pair in shock as they continued to argue. Almost wanting to laugh at the ridiculousness of the two as Coran pulled at his arm with an easy tug. Gaining his attention and pulling him away as soon as Keith was pulled into the argument. The two older ones going into the dining room, which was nearly silent with inactivity.

            “I knew Lance was a little different when he went to the healing pods. I saw him in the fights. I watched him. He was always different. Calmer. But, I never interfered. Because of who Lance was. Lance was kind. He tried to support you all when it got tough. He showed strength and humanity in more than just the motions.”

The air was tense, it could have been cut with a knife as Coran clutched a hand at his heart. “I knew, before Allura went missing. I loved him. But, seeing how he went to such extent for Allura. To bring her back safe and sound. It. Calmed any fears I couldn’t see. A case of actions are louder than words.”

Coran placed a hand on Shiro’s shoulder, looking him in the eyes and the paladin’s breath caught in his throat. Like when Coran threatened him. When Lance revealed the truth, when Lance used to look his way. The fear of them looking at him and just _knowing._ And Coran, always knew. And said as much. “And I see you. Black paladin. I see there is something more than just the title that scares you. I see trauma. I see mistrust and anger. But I also see love. Time can heal the hurt. And so will communication. But I want you to know this. And I’m sure he’d want you to know it to.”

            “He loves you two, both of you. You love him. And he’s been honest with all of us, even if he was hesitant to bring more of the details to the light. He wasn’t a lie. His love. This love. Was never a lie to him. And it would never be a lie to him. We mean so much to him. Keith, and you, mean too much to him.” Coran let go, the warmth of his hand sliding off of Shiro like a cold summer rain, and it almost felt like he was being wiped clean. Fresh eyes. As Coran grinned and Shiro’s heart felt clear for the first time since the mission ended the night before. He didn’t know what would happen, what damage would be reversed or done, but he knew what he had to say, he knew what truths he needed to here. He knew Lance would tell the truth. Shiro quickly turned on his heel, walking immediately to the place where he knew he could find the smiling blue paladin.

            The one he knew and loved so well.

            Coran smiled, a quiet and sad smile. Lance and Allura were sure to be done with their discuss. And he knew they would have reached the same conclusion. He knows the blue paladin would bare his soul. Just as they needed to move forward from this. It was just a matter of how they were affected after it that would be the variable. Coran sighed and looked up to the sky.

            “Now, it’s just up to them Alfor. To decide and talk it through. I know our fearless leader do what’s right for the three of them. I know Lance will decide what is best for them, all of us too, even if Shiro may disagree. I pray that those two decisions match up.”


	10. All He'd Have to Need

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait ;)

            His footsteps were short as his mind wandered. Slowly and contemplative as his eyes wandered the walls of the castle he called home. His sneakers were so worn that he could feel the cool of the tiles beneath his feet. His fingers twitched at his sides as he dug his fingers into his jacket. Letting his thoughts ramble as he bit his lip.

            He never wanted anyone to find out like that. It was always better if he got to tell them calmly with a comfortable environment. Not jumped with the information in a stressful battlefield mission. His fingernails scratched the fabric and his teeth sunk deeper into his lip.

            God, Shiro. He probably hated Lance now.

            Allura said to give it a little time, but none of the other paladins, nor Shiro, were anywhere to be seen. Lance relaxed his shoulder and let out a breath, deep and even. Pointedly ignoring the tang of blood in his mouth or the numb sting digging into his mouth. Lance looked up at one of the castles many windows, stars painting the galaxies they shot past in their travels. It made Lance feel so small. But, it was so beautiful.

            Feeling vulnerable and small could be a beautiful thing too.

            Lance’s eyes couldn’t tear themselves away. “God, sometimes I forget how lucky I feel, can’t deny that view though.”

            “It is a beautiful night, isn’t it?” Lance’s shoulders stiffened, but he relaxed them just enough for Shiro to step up from behind him and put a hand on his back. Lance nodded instead, slowly leaning back against the touch. Letting his muscles melt against the strong warmth buoying him up.

            He was glad Shiro wasn’t disgusted enough to not touch him. But he wasn’t going to beat around the bush either. “I’m sorry you had to find out like that, you shouldn’t have been surprised like that, I should have been the one to tell you, and I’m sorry for that.”

            “I’m sorry too, I just. I watched, people disappear in my neighborhood, vanish like ghosts. While their murderers strutted like peacocks, everyone just. They chose to forget. They didn’t mention them ever again. There was no remorse, no acknowledgement, they just were gone. And it’s haunted me. For a long time, and I took that out on you, all that mistrust and prejudice. I’m sorry.” Lance bit his lip again, a little harder. This time, he pulled away from Shiro. Looking up at him and straight into those dark eyes before holding out a hand.

            “Let me show you something.” Lance’s heart lurched as Shiro grabbed his hand immediately. The trust made a fuzzy and painful feeling inflate in his chest. But he still pulled Shiro to the black paladin’s room. Letting the door close behind him before his fingers grabbed at his jacket, pulling it to the floor and working on his shirt. Ignoring Shiro’s suspicious and shocked silence while remaining ever away of his eyes roaming the scars and muscle across his back. Until he turned around and Shiro’s eyes honed in on the tattoo. ‘ _Forgive me Father for I have Sinned’_ with tallies lining his ribcage like little balls and chains. Slowing adding up to drag him down to the hell that he belonged in. Lance glanced up at Shiro before looking down and idly tracing his tattoos.

            “I never forget them. I never do. I never will. And I’ll add to them justly once I get my hands on a tattoo shop. Each of these. Is a person I have killed. I murdered these people Shiro. I will not lie to you. And I also respect your decision if this changes things.” Lances eyes got hot and his lungs squeezed painfully, leaving him breathless. “Even if you can’t forgive me, if it’ll make things better, I can stay away from you. Keep my distance when it doesn’t matter.”

            Shiro, looked heartbroken, but still took a step forward. Taking in all of Lance’s pain and his shame. Deft fingers tracing the tattoos on the ribs that Shiro could almost count. His voice was whisper soft, leaving his throat. “Why did you never tell us before? It’s been so long.”

            “I was afraid. I will admit it. I didn’t want to hurt any of you, or lose you. I can’t leave this life. I won’t. I’m not a prisoner. I am a part of my family. Willing. I do this, because I was raised like this, and I love my family. What I do has consequences. Ones that I live with. But, I thought. I could shield you from it.” Shiro paused. His fingers stopping their small exploration of smooth and warm tan skin.

            “Is the Lance I knew even who you are?” Lance smiled, his hand reaching up to cup Shiro’s jaw boldly.

            “I’d never lie to you. Or any of them. I was always me, you’re just finding more about me. I love you all. I’ll never lie to you guys. I will never lie to anyone I love. I made that vow with my family, and it is a vow I will die too. Family is a righteous cause, and you guys. You’re just that. Family. Forever.” Lance smiled at Shiro, before letting his hand drop and stepping back. Allowing Shiro some space and time as he moved towards the door. Before Shiro grabbed his arm, halting his progress and spinning him into a bone crushing hug. Lance’s face pressed into Shiro’s shoulder. Solid and real.

“I’m so sorry for hurting you or ever making you doubt yourself.” Shiro’s voice choked, paused, before he continued. “I-I love you. We love you I mean.” Lance smiled softly, his ear was pressed against Shiro as he melted against one of the men who held his heart so close.

            “I know. Keith may have alluded to it.” Lance paused, before looking up at Shiro, those blue eyes framed with a solemn smile and eyes so vulnerable and adoring that it made Shiro’s heart ache. It was not a look Shiro had ever seen on Lance, the type of smile that made you want to cry. It showed on his face, Lance could see it clearly, Shiro and he both knew what wasn’t going to happen. As Shiro held him in those warm strong arms, Lance curled his fingers into his shirt. It wasn’t a goodbye, but it felt like one. Because Lance knew that he loved them, but he also knew what he could never do.

Be with them.

“I loved you too.”

            And like a ghost, he walked away from the black paladin. Out of the room into the hall.

            Someone in human skin could love, but it was better if they didn’t.

            Lance loved them anyway.

            Lance was a McClain. He was the son of his father. The youngest of his mother. The brother to his sisters. The heir to his people. The nightmare to his enemies and obstacles. The blue paladin of Voltron. The goof ball of his family. The brother to Pidge. The best friend to Hunk. The knight to Allura. The son to Coran. The supporter of Keith and Shiro. The monster in his skin. But above all else. He was the dark prince. A prince served his family with his life and love. He would live to serve.

            Live for love.

            But, never _to_ love.

            And with the blood on his hands, the dark claws of the monster digging into him with every breath. It was okay. To protect them, without loving them fully. It was okay.

            This was all he needed.

            All he’d have to need.


End file.
